


a drop of honey

by cherryliqueur



Series: kink bingo: ladies of riverdale edition [8]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Spanking, Riverdale - Season 4, Riverdale Kink Bingo, Submission, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryliqueur/pseuds/cherryliqueur
Summary: Mr. Honey decides to discipline Cheryl after she left a bee hive on his desk.





	a drop of honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southsidestyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidestyle/gifts).

> Clearly, I'm excited for the Cheryl vs. Mr. Honey subplot this season ;)
> 
> -  
[Kink Bingo: Ladies of Riverdale Edition](https://cherryliqkinks.livejournal.com/1557.html)  
Cheryl + drugged sex

Cheryl is polishing off her cup of chamomile tea when Mr. Honey’s door finally opens, fifteen minutes after having her pulled out of class only to make her wait outside of his office. Truthfully, she wanted to leave after only a minute – she knows that leaving her out here is simply a move by Mr. Honey to stroke his own ego – but she’s curious to see what he wants. It’s been three days since he found a hive unceremoniously dumped on his desk, freshly dripping with honey and still swarming with bees, but he has yet to say anything to her or anyone else about it, for that matter. Frankly, she’s a little disappointed.

If he thinks anyone other than her is to blame, he’s an even bigger idiot than she thought.

“Miss Blossom,” Mr. Honey’s voice drawls as he fills the doorway, hands folded stiffly behind his back. Cheryl glances over his shoulder, expecting whoever he’d been meeting with to step out from behind him – and then she feels a sharp tug of irritation when she realizes he hadn’t been preoccupied at all.

“Well, it’s about time,” she huffs as she sits up, smoothing her hands over her cherry-printed blouse. She’s dressed for war today in her signature color as she has all week, anticipating Mr. Honey to have made his move by now: she’s in her tallest pair of red leather stilettos and her favorite red plaid skirt, a fresh coat of red lipstick on her lips (long-wearing, of course) and her hair in sexed-up curls that have earned wary glances from the faculty all day long.

Mr. Honey’s expression remains annoyingly blank as he takes in her outfit – with the short hem of her skirt that definitely breaks dress code, and the flash of her red lace bra where her blouse is unbuttoned teasingly low – and she’s sure, in his eyes, all she’s missing is a bright, scarlet_ A_ pinned in place of her vintage spider brooch.

“As my_ principal_, you should have thought twice before pulling me from class and needlessly causing me to miss Honors Economics.” She folds her arms, hip cocked and eyebrows raised. “I take my education_ very_ seriously, as any student body president should.”

“Ah, yes.” Mr. Honey unfolds his hands and takes Cheryl’s empty paper cup from the table, glancing inside before dumping it into the compost bin. “I imagine your studies are a priority, second only to having me beheaded. Now, if you wouldn’t mind,” he says, barely giving Cheryl a chance to react to his words –_ her_ own words – before continuing with, “do close the door behind you. I’m sure you’ll value your privacy with what will be taking place.”

Cheryl can’t help but blink at his back, stunned for a moment at the fact that he had thrown her declaration at her. She’d said those words at her own party, in her own home, far away from his prying ears. Yet, unless some goody two-shoes had gone out of their way to rat her out and quote her while doing so, he’d found it out, anyway.

She’s almost impressed._ Almost._

But Cheryl Blossom is not about to be one-upped, so she brushes off her fleeting second of surprise with a high tilt of her chin and struts after him into his office. She shuts the door with a purposeful shove and crosses her arms over her chest once more, standing no more than a foot away from Mr. Honey as his eyes glance down at the low dip of her blouse for a second time. She expects him to finally reprimand her on her outfit, or at the at the very least, she expects him to move to sit behind his desk. But he does neither as he simply stares at her with his arms folded primly behind his back. His stare is slow and almost palpable as it drags down every button of her blouse and over every fold in her short, pleated skirt, until it finally settles on the heels that adorn her feet.

They’re her favorite pair, with a heel so skinny and so high that anyone else would have twisted an ankle after the first three steps. They’re sexy, almost obscenely so; they aren’t called_ “fuck me”_ heels for nothing, and she’s worn them all week not because she enjoys the stares (well, not_ just_ because) but because she wanted to provoke a reaction out of her dear principal. There’s nothing strictly against wearing heels like this in the dress code – she knows because she checked – and Cheryl was itching for the opportunity for Mr. Honey to call her out on them so she could put him in his place once more for everyone to see.

But she hadn’t anticipated_ this_ reaction. Because she knows that _look _in his eyes.

And that tingling sensation slowly starting to buzz low in her stomach?

She hadn’t anticipated_ that_ reaction, either.

“Unless you plan on either lecturing me or complimenting me on my outfit – neither of which would end well for you, by the way – then I suggest you let me go. I also suggest you keep your eyes up _here, _lest you want a sexual harassment complaint on your hands.”

Cheryl lifts her hand to gesture at her face, but Mr. Honey grasps her wrist instead, his hold surprisingly tight, and the buzz in Cheryl’s veins flutters faster. “_Excuse you_,” she hisses, trying to tug her arm away, but Mr. Honey only tightens his grip.

“Did you enjoy your tea?” Mr. Honey asks with an almost bored tone, as if he isn’t a principal holding onto his student’s arm in an undeniably threatening sort of gesture.

She blinks, caught off guard for a second time before a hot flush of irritation shoots through her. “I did, especially with the generous helping of _honey _that you left out for me. I assume it was fresh?”

“Straight from the hive you left on my desk? Yes, it was,” Mr. Honey drawls, his blank expression finally cracking as his lips twitch up at one corner.

Cheryl wants to smile, to reply in her sweet, innocent tone that she knows he won’t believe for a second – but instead she nearly gasps in surprise, lips parting and knees quivering ever so slightly when she feels a dull but unmistakable throb of heat right between her legs. That tingling sensation is quickly growing stronger, buzzing harder, and it’s only in this moment that she realizes just how flushed she feels. Her skin is hot and seems to grow hotter with what she believed (what she_ hoped_) to have been indignation, or at the very least,_ annoyance_. But the growing dampness at the front of her panties is unmistakable, no matter how she tries to tell herself otherwise.

_God, no._

She’s… is she…?

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Mr. Honey’s voice interrupts her rapidly-spiraling thoughts as his thumb rubs a delicate circle into her wrist. It’s a feathery light touch, something she probably wouldn’t have felt if she wasn’t practically burning from within. But that tiny little gesture has her eyebrows furrowing, lips pressing together as she swallows down the urge to shiver.

“You look rather flushed, Miss Blossom.” Mr. Honey draws back his hand and presses the back of it to her cheek, and Cheryl sways back, leaning her weight against the door. She should smack his hand away, get as far away from him and his office as fast as possible, but she can barely keep herself upright on her own legs. “Perhaps you enjoyed your tea a little too much,” he says, dragging his knuckles down her jaw in a sensual sweep that has her mouth parting in an almost-moan. He grasps her chin with his fingers, jerking her head up to meet his stare, and she realizes that he’s stepped entirely into her space, crowding her between his body and the door. “Or maybe you simply overindulged in your love of honey.”

She blinks slowly, eyelids feeling heavy as his words take their time sinking in.

A moment later, her stomach flips.

_Honey_.

“Did you…did you_ drug_ me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but she knows that Mr. Honey heard her because his annoyingly composed expression cracks at the edges, his lips slowly curving into a smirk. 

Then his hand drops to her blouse, giving her breast a squeeze through the thin fabric, and her nipples throb in response.

“Drugged? Not technically.” Mr. Honey draws back the edge of her blouse with his thumb, tracing the edge of her red lace bra where it meets her flushed skin. She moves to push him off, but her limbs feel weighted, clumsy, and he easily snatches her wrists together with one hand and holds them firmly between them as he pinches at her now-hardened nipple. She whimpers, humiliation pooling low in her stomach when her hips practically rut against his thigh where it’s wedged between her legs. “Tea is a natural relaxant, and I simply enhanced its ability to lower your inhibition, bringing forth the problem you’ve kept hidden from the faculty and staff for far too long.”

He rolls and rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger in an almost lazy sort of rhythm, and, to her horror, she feels her cunt twitch as her hips shift against his thigh. Her arousal has completely soaked through the thin lace of her panties, and she knows that Mr. Honey can feel it through the material of his slacks.

“You have been allowed to run wild and with little discipline, if any at all. And now you mistaken your impulsive restlessness for confidence.” His gives her tit one last squeeze before sliding his hand lower, lower. “Fortunately for you, I don’t believe in lost causes, and I’m willing to take drastic measures to teach you the consequences of your pride.”

His fingers slip under her skirt, rubbing Cheryl through the wet lace, and she finds herself grinding into his hand with another whimper.

“S-_stop_.” She squeezes her eyes tight, her hips moving faster despite her own plea. He nudges the lace aside, dragging the pad of his finger through her wetness, and her eyes nearly roll back as her pussy throbs. “This is…you can’t…” She tugs uselessly at his grasp on her wrist, which he actually releases. But rather than trying to shove him away again, she practically slaps her palms flat against the door behind her, using it to brace herself so she can grind against his hand.

“You believe you know what you want, but deep down, you know you crave discipline. You crave order.”

“No,” Cheryl breathes, nails scratching at the wall, unsure if she wants to escape the pleasure throbbing through her or if she wants to grasp onto something for leverage so she can ride his fingers harder, make herself come_ faster_.

“As your principal, I know what’s best for you,” Mr. Honey declares as he thrusts faster, curling them just so and making her eyes nearly cross as he finds her sweet spot with ease, brushing it again and again and again. “You think my methods are unorthodox. You think you know better than I do, but clearly your body feels otherwise.”

She wants to snap at him that it’s only because he drugged her, that she would never, _ever _feel an ounce of arousal at his hands – but then Mr. Honey slips his thumb over her clit, circling and circling, and Cheryl’s back arches off of the door as she moans even louder because she’s coming, _oh, she’s coming._ She throws her head back, hips rutting against his fingers as he curls against her sweet spot again and again, making her body twitch and spasm.

Her knees give out from under her, and if not for Mr. Honey crowding her against the door, Cheryl would have completely collapsed.

“Just as I thought.” His voice drifts through the haze of her orgasm after a long moment, his fingers still idly thrusting in and out of her clenching pussy. “When you’re not putting up a fight, Miss Blossom, you’re quite receptive.” He slides up to stroke her clit, which is throbbing harder, somehow, and a shiver rolls down her spine as she whimpers. “Sensitive,” he comments, sounding amused, and then he lifts his hand up to press the two fingers that were inside her passed her parted lips.

Cheryl moans as soon as the taste of her wanton cunt hits her tongue, lips sucking and tongue lapping at his fingers without a second of hesitation.

Mr. Honey hums in approval, and Cheryl will blame the drug coursing through her on the hot burst of desire unfurling in her stomach at that sound. She shouldn’t care about his perverse praises, but her body certainly does: her nipples tighten and her cunt clenches around aching emptiness.

And of course Mr. Honey notices.

“Are you eager for your next lesson already?” He pulls his hand away, his smirk widening when she leans forward, tongue darting out as if eager to continue sucking on his fingers. “On the desk,” Mr. Honey orders simply, finally taking a step back from her, and she sways forward on shaking legs as she makes her way over to his desk.

She doesn’t realize that he’d followed her until she feels his hand on the back of her thigh, sliding up to her ass, which is almost entirely exposed in her lingerie. He spanks her, quick and hard, making her moan and practically collapse onto her forearms atop the desk as pure arousal pulses through her. Then he does it again and again, sharper and harder with every strike, and though it’s only a handful of hits, Cheryl’s already-flushed skin grows hotter and more sensitive.

“On the desk,” Mr. Honey orders again, and Cheryl whimpers in protest, not wanting anything to touch her throbbing skin. But when she glances over her shoulder at him, Mr. Honey simply arches one eyebrow, giving her an expectant expression. And later, when the haze of the drug and the heat of her arousal has finally cleared, Cheryl will be appropriately mortified by how quickly she complies to him – but all she can focus on is the tingling at the base of her spine, the aching emptiness of her cunt, the slick of her arousal as it rolls over her clit and down the inside of her thighs…

So she climbs onto the desk and maneuvers herself until her ass is perched on the edge of the wood, making her wince in pain, then whimper at the pleasure that quickly replaces it when Mr. Honey flips her skirt up. He hooks two fingers under the thin lace and pulls it aside, exposing her swollen clit and slick cunt. She can faintly see the reflection of herself in his glasses, too, which makes her feel even _dirtier_, somehow.

“Legs up high, Miss Blossom. As captain of the River Vixens, I know you’re capable of holding yourself nice and wide for me, aren’t you?”

Cheryl’s cheeks grow hotter, if possible, humiliation tightening at the base of her spine and making her cunt squeeze again as she complies to his command once more. She leans back against the desk, stretches her legs up, _up_, and then grasps onto each of her ankles and pulls herself open wide. Her red leather_ fuck me_ heels hover on either side of her head in this position, and another curl of pure arousal rolls through her when she feels her wetness drip down over her tight rim.

She’s entirely exposed like this, her cunt spread wide as Mr. Honey still holds her panties to the side, leaving her helpless when he brings his hand down on it without warning. It’s more of a tap than an actual spank, but she’s so wound up that her body jerks, spasming atop the desk. He taps her with his palm rapidly as she writhes atop his desk, whimpering – and then he strokes his hand over her cunt and her eyes nearly roll back as she keens out a moan.

He teases her like this for what must barely be a minute, but it feels like_ hours_ as she quivers and squirms atop his desk. It’s an effort to keep herself in this position, but never once does she think about disobeying his orders and letting go.

Her body is too far gone to let her pride get in the way.

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Mr. Honey starts to say, drawing his hand away, and Cheryl’s nipples tighten in anticipation when she hears the faint sound of his slacks being unzipped, “you may want to keep it down, lest you want anyone coming in here to disrupt your disciplining.”

Cheryl sucks in a breath, eyes widening – it had_ completely_ slipped her mind that this is happening in the middle of the day, in the middle of the_ school_, with Miss Bell just beyond the door – but before she has a chance to fully let this sink in, his tip presses at her entrance and he thrusts forward. She’s so slick that he slides in with ease, stretching her out wide, filling her deep, and she lets out another moan at the sudden sensation of being so stuffed. He’s big and long and so, so_ thick_, teetering on the edge of pain and pure bliss.

Then he takes her blouse in his fist, holding onto it for leverage as he starts fucking her.

“A-_ah!_” Cheryl squeals, his cock hitting her deeper than anything or anyone she’s ever had inside of her, and at this angle, he brushes against her sweet spot with ease. Cheryl digs her nails into her ankles as her legs quiver, her muscles straining to hold herself as every thrust sends wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. She knows her moans are getting higher and higher and_ louder_, and she nearly whimpers in relief when he lets go of her blouse to grasp her jaw, shoving his thumb into her mouth.

It would be embarrassing to Cheryl how quickly he makes her come again, but she’s too consumed by the sensation to even care.

She nearly bites down on his thumb, sucking harder as her back arches and jerks off of the desk, her orgasm bursting through her, and he keeps fucking her through it. She feels dizzy, drugged with pleasure…

And not once does Mr. Honey’s composed, vaguely smug expression slip, even as his eyebrows furrow slightly as he starts to fuck her faster,_ harder_.

Cheryl comes twice more before Mr. Honey grunts, body stiffening over hers as his orgasm finally hits, and Cheryl’s eyes nearly cross at the sensation of his warm cum spilling into her in long spurts. But only for a moment, because then he’s pulling out, grasping his cock and pumping it with his hand as his hot release splashes over her thighs, across her ass cheeks, soaking into her ruined lace panties.

Cheryl whimpers, muscles already starting to ache as she finally lets go of her ankles, letting them fall over the edge of the desk as her body slumps against the hard wood. Muffled beyond the door, she can hear the faint chatter of students mingling and shuffling down the hallway. She hadn’t even heard the bell ring to signal the start of passing period, and, belatedly, her stomach flips at the thought of anyone being able to have walked in on them because they needed to see the principal for one reason or another.

It’s enough for Cheryl’s throbbing arousal to dissolve quickly, though, with her drenched panties sticking to her cunt and her clit throbbing at the warmth of his cum still nestled inside of her, she knows it will be a long while before her arousal completely fades – drug or no drug.

When Cheryl’s vision blurs back into focus, she finds that Mr. Honey has already tucked himself back into his slacks and zipped himself up, hands tugging at the lapels of his blazer as he straightens it over his shoulders once more. He’s annoyingly composed once more, which strikes another flare of irritation inside Cheryl, though it’s not nearly as burning as it would have been before she got called into his office. Her body is too drunk on the pleasure he’d given her and the way his cock had filled her wide and deep to feel as vengeful against Mr. Honey as she probably should.

And that’s perhaps the worst part of all.

“I suggest you not be late to your next class,” Mr. Honey tells her as Cheryl slides off of the desk, swaying on her heels as her legs quiver. His eyes drag over her appearance again, just as it had when she first walked in here, but this time the corners of his mouth twitch into a small but undeniably pleased smirk. She’s afraid to find out what she must look like. “But don’t fret, Miss Blossom. I’ll call you in for your next lesson soon enough.”

It’s both a command and a warning, and for the first time ever, Cheryl doesn’t put up a fight.

**Author's Note:**

> "Mr. Honey shows Queen Bee Cheryl who has all the power when he punishes her for the bee hive she left in his office."  
\- prompt from southsidestyle on livejournal
> 
> "Hi!! I love your kink stories. I was wondering if you would ever write something with Cheryl and Mr. Honey. Just because there seems to be that tension between them in the recent episode and I think you would be great at writing them."  
\- request from an anon on tumblr


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